


The Greatest Generation

by yesterdaisy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9376067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesterdaisy/pseuds/yesterdaisy
Summary: A series of fics exploring Steve Rogers, and what it was like for him to grow up in the 1920s, 30s, and 40s.





	

“Ma, it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Steve’s little blue eyes are so full of awe and wonder that Sarah Rogers can’t help but rub her thumb over his rosy cheek.

“Anything for my sweet little boy on his birthday. How old are you today?”

“Six!” he yells back, and then grins sheepishly when he realizes how loud he’s being.

“It’s okay honey, you can be loud in here.” The corner of Sarah’s eyes wrinkle as she smiles and reaches to tuck back his thin, blonde hair. She knows that it’s not everyday that her baby boy has the energy to be loud. 

Steve though, has since returned his attention to the sweet, mesmerizing blob atop the cone in between his little fingers. Some of it is starting to droop off the side, and Steve’s eyes are growing wide with fear before suddenly, his little forehead wrinkles with great determination — a little man on a mission — and Steve aims and goes in for his next lick, and helps his scoop of ice cream right itself back up.

He looks up to his mother, grinning proudly before giggling as he feels the cold dessert going down his throat. Steve shivers for a second, but he shakes it off easily and soon, he’s licking his ice cream again. It’s so creamy and smooth and he’s never, ever had anything like this before. But then he remembers his mother doesn’t have any, and he stops.

“Ma?”   
“Yes honey?”

Steve looks up at her, blinking for a few seconds before he holds up his cone.

“Oh darling, I’m alright.”  
“But I wanna share.”  
“It’s okay sweetie. You’re allowed to have something all to yourself on your birthday.”

Steve seems to contemplate that for a second, like he’s considering it, before shaking his head.

“But ... I always have somethin’ all to myself. E’vry day, I have you Ma.”

In that moment, he can see water gathering in his mother’s eyes, but Sarah just grins back at him, even as a few drops start to trickle down her cheek. Steve holds up his cone again, and this time, his mother leans down and gives him a kiss on the forehead, before she uses her fingers to wipe away her tears.

“I love you honey.”  
“I love you too Ma.”   
“You sure you wanna share?”

Steve nods, his blue eyes so bright and beautiful and full of stubbornness. Just like his dad’s used to be.

“Okay sweetie. But only if you have a little more first.”

Steve seems to consider that too, and smiles when he decides it’s something he can agree to. He takes two more licks, savoring the way the vanilla tastes, before holding the cone back out to his mom, and this time, Sarah takes it.

Life isn’t easy for them, Steve knows that, even at this age, even if he can’t fully yet understand why. But if there’s something Steve’s noticed, it’s that between all the visits to the doctor and the drug store and the grocer’s, his mother is always counting the number of coins in her purse. They come in all different shapes and sizes, but she’s counting them, like she’s worried they’re going run out by tomorrow. 

It was a year ago, when he was five, when Steve finally understood that his Ma could exchange those coins for other things. Like bread, which needed two tiny silver coins. Or milk, which needed three. Eggs needed five. And then there was that tiny little jug she bought him at the drugstore to help him breathe better. That had needed ten. But Steve could tell right away by the look in her mother’s eyes when she opened her purse, that she didn’t have enough.

They went home empty-handed that day.

But that night, before bed, Steve remembered his mother hugging him so tight that it had become too much and he’d started to cough. Sarah had let go immediately, and all she could really do was hold his hand, and wait for the fit to pass.

“I swear honey, I’ll be able to help you feel better soon.”  
“It’s okay Ma. I can handle it.”

Sarah’s lip trembled, before she spoke again.

“I love you, my brave little soldier.”

Seven days later, on the first day in September, they went back to the drug store and that time, his Ma had enough for the little jug with a spout and a glass straw sticking out of the top. But ever since then, Steve stopped asking his mother for anything he thought she’d need to exchange her coins for. He knew she didn’t have any to spare.

Which is why that day, on his sixth birthday, when his Ma said they were gonna get him ice cream at the Bay Ridge Ice Cream parlor, Steve had stared in awe at the glass windows with beautiful pictures and the shiny red stools. He’d listened, as people around them talked about how the ice cream here tasted sweet as frosting, and Steve had wondered in his head what _frosting_ tasted like. 

Just one scoop of vanilla, he’d heard his mother say, before she gave one her tiny silver coins to the cashier.

“Vanilla, are you sure? We got red, white and blue just special for the holiday! Just ten cents more for all three flavors!”

Sarah had smiled back at the cashier and shook her head.

“Just one scoop of vanilla please, I know it’ll do just fine.”

It was the simplest thing there, but it had also been the most wonderful birthday gift Steve could’ve gotten that day — and one he never would have asked for. 

Vanilla has stayed his favorite ice cream flavor ever since.

When they were finally done with their special treat, Sarah had helped Steve wipe the ice cream off his face before taking his hand again. It was almost dark, which meant it was nearly time for their annual birthday tradition.

“You remember what happens right, sweetheart?”  
“Fireworks!”

Sarah smiles, as she leads him outside. Despite how poor they were, she’s always been grateful for this little coincidence. Because even on the years where she can’t afford something herself, something special will always happen on her little boy’s birthday. 

Something special will always happen on the Fourth of July.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to herophelia for being my first-ever beta reader for my first-ever fic. Thank you M, for prompting me to even think of this idea in the first place, with your excellent Tony at age 4.


End file.
